


For Where All Love Is.

by crazykernowcow



Category: The Beatles (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Farm/Ranch, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, M/M, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-12
Updated: 2019-12-12
Packaged: 2021-02-25 22:46:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 869
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21763192
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/crazykernowcow/pseuds/crazykernowcow
Summary: John Lennon. The songwriter who's songs can make or break every artist in the world, songs that have sold millions of copies, but has managed to remain almost completely unknown outside the music industry. John is running to Scotland for a life reset after escaping a very unhealthy relationship and drug addiction.Paul McCartney.  Lost his wife Linda 18 months ago, he's just about keeping it together for their 4 children, now he just has to hang on to the dream farm that Linda always wanted, and give the children the live that he had always promised they would live together.
Relationships: John Lennon/Paul McCartney
Comments: 5
Kudos: 44





	For Where All Love Is.

**Author's Note:**

> Please read and tell me what you think. I really want to see where this goes!  
>  Apologies for the glaring spelling mistakes and poor writing.
> 
> Please please tell me what you think.

John hunched further in on himself, making a valiant effort to murge with the train window as the sour faced women levered herself into the seat next to him. John's skin crawled as the smell of mildew and old sweat reached him and the woman turned to look down her nose at him as if he was the one that smelt. He turned back to the window and made the tactical decision to breathe through his mouth until he reached the crystal clear air of the Scottish Highlands.  
As the gray of industrial estates gave way to the dark green and brown of late winter fields John found himself thinking of the sharp coldness of the Scottish air and of the sooty salty air of his childhood in Liverpool. That was poetry he decided, the damp smoggy fog of his life so far to clear sharp rebirth that this trip was supposed to be. That is, he thought, if he ever escaped from the cruel and unusual torture that was the British rail network. 

\---  
Mary took her father's had with all the authority of a 6 year old who had learnt something new at school and was about to educate her stupid old father. Paul pushed back the overwhelming wave of love that threatened to choke him and set off up the half mile of track to home.  
When Mary had started school Linda had tasked him to ask the bus driver to come to their front door, arguing that it was not good for little girls to be walking half a mile morning and night in the cold wet Scottish winters. Paul had dutifully asked and receive a completely incompressible response in a thick Highland slur, of which around 90% was, by Paul's (admittedly poor) translation, completely unsuitable for a bus of children under 11. He hadn't asked again, and in the last 18 months he had become more grateful every day that he hadn't bothered. Theses moments had become the most important in Paul's day, allowing him to talk to his children without the distraction of getting ready for school or bed or the things going on on the farm. They talked about everything from trivial and day to day to the really difficult questions that children that have just lost their mother ask. And Paul treasured every moment. In an hour, he would do the same with Heather, meeting her from the secondary school bus and asking about her day until she got bored and clambered over the paddock field fence, in her clean school uniform, to follow her sisters playing with the pet lambs.   
There was such heartbreak in the world but, Paul thought as he watched Stella jump in a puddle that washed over the top of her wellies, there was so much overwhelming love that the heartbreak was worth it a thousand times over. 

\---  
It took John more than two hours to reach the village where the cottage that had been rented for him was supposed to be, after leaving the train. He'd asked for remote but he reckoned this was taking the piss a bit. He wasn't a natural driver and he did not like these narrow twisting roads. Away from the city lights John was used to darkness seemed to be closing in very quickly. John rounded a bend and. Ah a man. Stood at the end of a track that seemed to lead to nowhere. John slammed on the breaks and swung into the entrance. He rolled down the window and lent out, calling out to the man.  
The man slowly walked towards the car, squinting in the glare of the headlights and leaned down to the window.  
" Hello, can I help you" the man asked, suspicion doing little to cloud the strong Scouse accent. John blinked, not expecting to find such a familiar sound in the heart of Scotland. He opened his mouth to reply when he noticed the baby tucked in to the man's coat. He blinked again, "seahorse" John said dumbly  
"What" the man replied, suspicion growing.  
" Seahorse dads look after the babies in a little pouch a bit like a kangaroo" John explained refocusing on the other man's face and, oh wow, he was beautiful, a fine boyish face, with sleepy eyes and plump soft lips, he looked like every mistake and vice that John had come up here to avoid.   
" Err directions" John said quickly before he became to caught up in this man's beauty "to Croft Cottage?"   
The man's face cleared and he turned slightly to point up the road "follow the road, up the hill and round the bend and then take the first right. It'll drop you back in the valley, it's the only house down there, you can't miss it"   
John nodded and thanked him, putting the car in gear as the man took a step back. The man suddenly took a step closer to the car again, "Paul" he said thrusting a hand through the open window to shake. John took it  
"John. Lennon" he replied.   
Paul grinned " it's good to see someone from back home" he smiled, taking another step back and raising a hand to wave John off.


End file.
